It Might Be Love
by mskelseylove
Summary: In July 1962 Kurt decides to join the Army after his father dies unexpectedly and he is left alone and moneyless. But when he meets a boy who shows him that there might be another way out, will it be too late? And if it is, can their relationship survive?
1. Prologue

**It Might Be Love**

_July 1962_

Kurt Hummel set down the last box and stood back, wiped his hands off on his faded black slacks and looked around. The corner of his cousin's barn where he had been allowed to store his few remaining possessions looked about as sad and forlorn as he felt, not that many people would be able to see that without knowing his situation. The toughness in his face and his nearly constantly worn fake smile could convince most that he was as happy as any young man his age should be.

After his mother passed away when he was eight years old, it had just been him and his father for nearly ten years, until three weeks prior, when he had suffered an unexpected heart attack and passed away before he could reach any medical attention. Or before he could see his only son graduate from high school, which happened the following morning.

Now it was just him.

And after the funeral expenses and paying that last month's rent, his father's savings were nearly exhausted. During his final year in school, Kurt had worked a few nights a week bagging groceries at the local supermarket, but most of his spending money went towards new plaid shirts and his radio that constantly played rock music. Often times when his father would work late nights he would turn the radio up as loudly as it would play and dance around his room, practicing moves that the kids talked about at school, but that he knew he would never be able to do in public without fear of insult.

But more than anything else, these secret dance sessions kept him tone, and strengthened his arms and legs beyond what anyone would suspect from the young man, whose soft, delicate hands and almost feminine facial features also provided material for ridicule.

He walked backward, away from the reminders of the life he once had and the family that once supported him and grabbed his duffle bag from the dusty floor. He wandered into his cousin's house, simply nodding in response to her salutation and shuffled into the guest room where he was staying.

_One week_, he thought to himself._ One more week and I'll be out of here._ He laid down on the bed without undoing the blankets and closed his eyes. _Not that it will be any better there than where I am now._

* * *

><p>Blaine Anderson waived goodbye to the elderly couple as they walked out the door, shouting their promise to return the following week, just as they always did. He cleared the table quickly, using the skills that he had gained over the past years to stack the plates that were still sticky with ketchup and cups that were still partially full of ice.<p>

He scooped up the change that had been left for a tip and tucked it into his waist apron before walking behind the counter to deposit the dirty dishes into the wash bin. On slow nights like this, he was responsible for washing his own dishes. He didn't mind though. It was nearly closing time and he was the only one there other than his uncle, who in addition to being the owner and being responsible for most of the book keeping, also did most of the cooking himself.

He had started working there when he was twelve years old, hardly old enough to work legally, but since it was his uncle's place, no one said anything about the large amount of time that he spent there. At first, it was just a get away. A place that that wasn't his house where he would have to deal with his parents - his father especially.

And when his uncle gave him a couple of dollars at the end of that first week when he had spent his afternoons sweeping and running food out to families when the waitresses got too busy - he had realized that he had got a job.

And at twelve years old there was nothing that he really needed to buy that his parents wouldn't buy for him. So he put his money into a tin can, and when that was full he moved it to a shoe box, and then a suitcase. And by the time he was 16, he went to the bank with his suitcase of savings and started his own account, which he now contributed to regularly.

His parents, not being able to tell the difference between the spending money that they gave their son and the money that he raised on his own, knew nothing of this secret account, nor what Blaine's plans were to do with it once he finished school.

He wanted to go to New York. He wanted to run away and sing. He sang in church choir, and although the director praised his voice and his mother smiled politely after his performances, he knew that neither of his parents thought that it would be a suitable career, especially for a young man with so many resources. Meaning money. And his father's good reputation.

No - his parents thought that it would be good if he went into law school, since there was a family practice to inherit, after all. And if law wasn't in his interests - perhaps he could go to school to be a professor. Or a banker. Or frankly anything that wasn't in the arts.

So Blaine kept his savings a secret.

_One more year,_ he thought to himself. _One more year and I'll be out of here._ He finished up the dishes, bid goodbye to his uncle and left the restaurant to walk the short distance home. _And it is going to be so much better than where I am now._

* * *

><p><em>AN: So I've been working on this a bit and have a couple of chapters done and I'm kinda excited and nervous about posting it because I've never written anything so AU before. The title of this story is from the Dixie Chick's song Traveling Soldier, which is partly the inspiration for this fic._

_So that was the prologue. It's going to be 5 chapters long. I'm interested to see any feedback that you have for me - good or bad!  
><em>


	2. Can't Help Falling In Love

**It Might Be Love**

* * *

><p>When I had given the supermarket my notice that I was quitting and joining the army, they had been frustratingly unhelpful, filling my last weeks with long and undesirable shifts and finding reasons why I needed to work through my breaks.<p>

So when I was finally told that I could go home, it was nearly nine and I knew that my cousin would long be in bed, and since I hadn't eaten since noon, I decided that I should grab something before going home.

In my small town there were few places to eat and fewer places to eat after eight, but I decided to stop at the one small restaurant that I knew would be open still. I rarely ate there, since my father had preferred the burger joint a bit farther out of town when we had splurged on eating out, but I had walked by it enough times to know that I would still be able to get something to eat.

_And since it's late, I wont have to deal with listening to people's condolences and well wishes on my future,_ I thought, almost bitterly. I was alone now, and it was easiest to fake happiness when I didn't have people fretting over me.

I walked into the small restaurant and saw that it was nearly empty except for a man siting at the bar drinking a cup of coffee and eating a slice of pie and a couple in their twenties sharing an ice cream sundae.

I slid into a booth facing away from the counter and was surprised when a boy younger than myself walked over and stood in front of the table, pulling a notebook out of his apron, flipping the first page over and sliding a pen out of behind his ear. He quickly wiped the gleam of sweat off of his face and finally made eye contact with me. He seemed startled and didn't immediately say anything, but couldn't seem to stop obviously staring at the me.

I smiled politely and coughed quietly, but couldn't help stare a bit in return and admire the boy's strong facial features, with his defined jaw line and piercing eyes, that were an indescribable color and were burning with something that inexplicably screamed hope.

When the waiter still didn't say anything, I pulled my eyes back to the menu.

"Um, hi. Can I ask you a question? I'm new here."

Blaine looked flustered and stuck out his hand, and although it looked like he immediately regretted the action, I quickly grabbed hold of it.

"My name's Blaine."

"Kurt," I said, still smiling, shaking his hand a few more times before releasing it. "So, what exactly is good here? Something quick and easy, I know that you guys are closing soon."

Blaine seemed to have shaken himself out of whatever he had fallen into and he rattled off a few suggestions, but I was having a hard time listening to anything that he was saying. He paused to take a breath and I pulled my eyes away from him for long enough to agree to take whatever he had just suggested, although I really had no idea what it was.

Blaine thanked me and went to walk away, but first gave a weird sort of bow and then shimmed away, looking thoroughly embarrassed, his cheeks flushed.

It was strange to see someone act this way toward me. The only thing that I could compare it to was the look and mannerisms that one of the lovesick maidens would shoot at the hero during those flicks that I used to sometimes see with my dad, right when they realized that they'd found the person that was going to sweep them off their feet.

But that was crazy. _I must be more tired than I thought_, I thought to myself.

Once Blaine had walked away I regretted choosing a seat that faced away from the counter. But even though I couldn't see, I couldn't help but hear him singing along with the radio under his breath.

By the time he returned with my food, the other customers had left and although I hadn't even begun eating, the owner walked around the corner and had a loud whispering conversation with Blaine that made it evident that he wanted to go home.

"Then go!" Blaine said loudly, forgetting to at least try to whisper. "I can close up here. I've done it a hundred times. I don't know why tonight would be any different."

The man said something quietly to Blaine who promptly shouted, "I don't know what you're talking about! I don't look any different than normal! Just go home!"

He seemed to have won, because a few moments later I heard the back door slam and Blaine continue his singing. He walked back over to check on me and was blatantly avoiding meeting my eye line.

"How is everything?" He said quietly.

"Oh, it's great, thank you. I'm sorry if I got you in trouble there. I'm almost done here and then you can go home, too. I know that you guys are actually closed already."

The blush rose in his cheeks and he continued to avoid my eyes. "No, no, it's fine. It's just my uncle - he's a bit protective over me for some silly reason. I don't understand why, though. I mean, I'm nearly seventeen years old," he said proudly, rambling, "and I don't need someone to walk me home. And we don't need to rush out paying customers because all of a sudden he seems to think that I was..."

He realized that he was saying too much and stopped abruptly.

"You're sixteen? Have seen you around school?"

He looked relieved that I wasn't dwelling on the second half of his rant. "Oh, no. I'm home schooled. I used to go to private boy's school before we moved to Ohio a few years ago, and ever since I've just had private tutors since there isn't a private school close enough for me not to board."

I couldn't help but raise my eyebrows.

"Not that I would mind going to public school! Actually, I'd prefer it. But my parents, they insist. And that's not the only thing that they insist on that I would rather not do. But, until I'm eighteen, at least, there's really nothing that I can do about besides work hard so that I can get out of here."

For the umpteenth time that evening, he seemed to think that he had said to much, but I didn't think so. This boy was so honest, so excited about the future even if he was currently unhappy with his situation. We had barely known each other, but I felt myself being drawn in to every word that he was saying, hoping that he would continue, hoping that some of the excitement and gestures that he used while talking were contagious and that I was going to some how pick some of it up.

He had obviously forgotten that he was supposed to be closing up shop because he sat down across the table from me and gently wiped off the smooth surface, although it was already clean.

"I just can't stand it here. I can't stand being told what to do. I cannot wait to be able to make decisions for myself."

I looked at him curiously, trying to put my finger on what was making me so interested in his story. He looked up at me, as if he had been able to tell that I was looking at him - and his eyes - his beautiful eyes - showed so much frustration and sadness and determination that I couldn't help myself from speaking.

"What are you doing tomorrow?"

"Working, but not until afternoon," he seemed surprised but interested. "Why?"

"I'm feeling a little lonely."

I was surprised at my own bluntness, but he took it in stride. "Let's meet at the pier. 10 o'clock?"

He smiled and as I went to set my soiled napkin down on my empty plate he leaned over to pick it up and our hands brushed slightly and I felt a shiver in my stomach that I had never previously felt before. He looked at where our hands had met and almost seemed like he had felt a similar reaction, but before he could say anything I stood up, threw some money on the table and walked briskly out the door.

It wasn't until I got until the corner of the road, where I would have to turn to return to my cousin's, that I looked back. The restaurant was barely visible, but in the front window, Blaine stood clearly, still staring at his hand.

* * *

><p>"You're leaving? In less than a week?"<p>

It was one of the warmest days of the summer so far and we had both abandoned our shoes and rolled up our pants and were sitting at the end of the pier, our feet dangling in the cool water. We had been talking for a couple of hours already, and I felt more comfortable talking with him than I did with anyone else I knew. I told him my ideas and dreams and secrets and he in turn shared some things with me. I had a feeling that he was being a bit more reserved that I was, but I eagerly absorbed every tidbit of information that he wanted to let me in on.

"Yeah," he said, quietly. "My dad - he uh - died a few weeks back, and bagging groceries is not going to be a suitable career choice. I would never be able to make a living off it. And it's not like we had a house that I can live it. We rented from the Fabrays and it's much too expensive and big for just me."

I watched him quietly, eager for him to continue.

"I'm all alone here. I didn't know what else to do. They pay well and I'm in good shape and they're always looking for people, so I just figured, why not, you know?"

I nearly told him that he wasn't alone - that he had me. But since we hadn't yet known each other for twenty four hours and I was having a hard enough time keeping my mouth shut, I decided against it. Although I already felt it. Strongly.

I don't know exactly how to describe what was making me drawn to him so quickly. For one, I had never felt the need to describe a boy as beautiful before, but staring at Kurt's profile as he pondered his future, there was no doubting that that's exactly what he was.

His eyes were beautiful, but they looked scared, like he wanted to be happy but there was a weight pulling him down or standing in his way and was preventing him. They looked like they held a million secrets that were piled so high that they were soon going to start leaking out, and Kurt was trying to escape before he could let them.

"Where do you want to go if you don't want to be here so badly?" He asked after a spot of silence.

"Uh, to New York, actually." It slipped off my tongue so easily. My biggest secret and I was confessing it to someone who was nearly a complete stranger.

"New York? What are you going to do there?"

"Sing, hopefully." I continued, not able to believe my own willingness to spill all of my secrets.

"I heard you a bit last night, but it was too quiet for me to be able to hear you properly." Kurt said, pulling his legs out of the water and turning to face me completely, sitting Indian style.

"Sing something for me."

"Right now? I couldn't. There's no music," I said hurriedly, mirroring him by pulling my legs out of the water and turning to face him properly.

"Who cares. No one is going to hear it but me. And if you're going to cross the country to try to make yourself a real singer, singing here in the middle of no where, to someone who is practically no one, shouldn't be a problem at all."

"You're not no one," I said quietly. "You've got to stop saying stuff like that."

He laughed and his whole eyes lit up. "Alright. Whatever you say. Now sing for me."

I was breathing heavily, blushing under the stare of his waiting eyes, and was having a hard time coming up with a song. But his gaze was unrelenting. So, with those eyes pouring into mine, I inhaled sharply and sang the first thing that came to mind.

_"Wise men say only fools rush in,_

_But I can't help falling in love with you._

_Shall I say? Would it be a sin?_

_If I can't help falling in love with you._

_Like a river flows surely to the sea, darling so it does,_

_Some things are meant to be._

_Take my hand, take my whole life, too._

_For, I can't help falling in love with you."_

My voice cracked slightly on the last line and I went to take a breath before returning to the chorus, but before I could start again he grabbed almost desperately onto my face and pressed his lips against mine. I was momentarily too shocked to respond, but once I realized that he was still eagerly pressing his lips against mine and sliding his tongue along my bottom lip, silently begging entrance, I threw caution to the wind and opened my mouth slightly, returning the kiss with as much passion as he was showing, leaning into him and pushing my hand through his hair.

My eagerness seemed to have startled him, and although we continued the kiss passionately for a few seconds, he eventually pulled himself away and put his hands up in the air.

"We can't do this."

I was startled. "Why not?" I asked quietly.

"I leave soon. You're too young. We just can't do it." He shook his head and avoided my eye contact.

I put my hand to his cheek and made him look at me again. "Listen. I have never felt this way about another person in my life. So easily connected, so ready to share ideas and secrets and dreams. You don't have to leave."

"Of course I have to leave. I've already signed the contract. On Sunday morning I'm taking the nine o'clock bus. There's nothing I can do."

"You could just stay here!" I shouted desperately, taking my hand off of his face but grabbing his hand instead. "You can just work for a year, and then we can go to New York together. We can leave his place. Escape. But still have each other."

He was quiet as he seemed to consider what I had suggested.

"This is crazy," he whispered. "I hardly know anything about you."

"Well I know plenty about you. I know that you've got beautiful eyes and soft lips and a lot of hurt inside of you. I know that you feel lonely and that you don't want to be alone but for some reason you feel that you deserve it. I know that you're not ashamed of being different than other boys our age, but that you're scared of being insulted and ridiculed, so you bottle it up with the rest of your emotions until you can't keep it inside anymore and it explodes out.

I know that you dance when you're scared or lonely or happy and that you like music almost as much as I do. I know that you don't want to go overseas and fight, that you just signed up because you didn't know what else you were supposed to do. But I'm telling you - there are other options."

"Maybe two weeks ago I had a choice. But there's no way that I can get out of it now."

He stood up, looking disgusted with himself and started walking backwards.

"I just - can't. I'm sorry."

"Wait!" I shouted as he turned around and started to run down the pier. "Come back, Kurt! Let's just talk about it a little more! We can figure something out!"

He turned around and in one brief glance I saw a series of emotions run through his eyes - hurt, embarrassment, regret and lastly, something that he looked like longing.

"Kurt!" I said, jumping up and running after him. But by the time I reached the end of the pier he was gone and I had no idea which direction he had come from.

I sat down on the grass by the edge of the water and dropped my face into my hands, tears falling freely. I ran my fingers lightly over my lips and cried harder at the thought that I wouldn't experience the feeling of his lips pressed against mine ever again.

I had no idea why he had come into my life so quickly, but I was determined that I would see him again before he left and try to convince him that he could stay.

I had to at least try.

* * *

><p><em>What the hell was that?<em> I thought to myself, walking quickly back towards the house.

Based on the conversation that we had had the night before and earlier that morning, I knew that I had made some sort of connection with Blaine. And I tried to push the feelings away. I knew that it was unrealistic to think that I could have any sort of relationship with him. I was leaving in less than a week and a relationship between two men was extremely looked down upon, especially in our small conservative town.

But then he sang me that song and stared at me with those expressive eyes that seemed to plead that I open up to him. And I couldn't hold in the feelings anymore and I was kissing him and he was kissing me back.

And those brief moments were incredible. I had never felt more alive than I had while he was pressing his lips against mine and running his fingers through my hair.

But I couldn't do it. And I had to get out of there before I made a mistake or got to invested to be able to stop.

So I ran.

I spent the next few days camped out in my room during any of the spare hours that I wasn't at work and I avoided walking by the restaurant all together. But although I had been able to physically keep myself away from him I couldn't help thinking about him almost constantly.

After that brief moment of connection I felt even more lonely. Even more hopeless.

I went back in forth for days and then again for the many hours that I spent laying awake the night before I was supposed to leave. But at last I made up my mind.

On the way to the bus stop I stopped by the restaurant, hoping that he was working.

I opened the door, pulling my duffle bag onto my shoulder and running my hands over my chest and thighs to try and straighten out the wrinkles in my uniform that I had accumulated during the short walk. The bell signaling a new customer rang as soon as I pressed open the door and he turned around from the sink and immediately caught my eye.

He walked over to me as quickly as he could without looking too suspicious.

"Kurt, what are you -" he began.

"No, Blaine, just listen. I have to go, my bus is leaving in ten minutes."

He was shocked, obviously hoping that my reappearance meant that we had more time together.

"I can't promise anything," I said quietly, reaching in my pocket to pull out a small folded piece of paper. "But, will you write me?"

He silently took the slip of paper from my hands and looked at it before looking up right into my eyes. I nearly had to take a step backwards when I saw their intensity.

"Of course I will."

I smiled to him softly and turned to walk out the restaurant.

* * *

><p><em>AN: So here's chapter two! The title of the chapter and the song except are from the song Can't Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley. _

_Thanks to everyone who has added this to their alerts/favorites. _


	3. Dream, Baby

**It Might Be Love**

* * *

><p><em>July 22nd, 1962<em>

_Dear Kurt,_

_After you came into the restaurant and gave me your address it took me a few minutes to remember that I had to go back to work. And it took everything I had for me not to run after you. I'm just thankful that you're at least giving us this opportunity to talk._

_I'm scared that you're going to be hurt while you're away. You have to promise me that you're going to do what you can to stay out of harm's way._

_I rushed home right after work so that I could write this - I wanted to get it out in the mail this afternoon. I'm not sure how often you are going to be able to write, but I hope that you do when you can._

_I can't stop thinking about that kiss. How I shocked I was at first but how absolutely perfect it felt. Was it the same way for you? I know that you ran away afterwards, but I don't think that it was a mistake. I think that you were running away from your feelings, thinking that if you got away quickly enough the feelings would just disappear. But I have to tell you, if yours are anything like mine - I don't think that they're going to just disappear._

_Blaine_

* * *

><p><em>July 31st, 2011<em>

_Dear Blaine,_

_Thank you for your letter. I was afraid that you wouldn't write._

_I'll be able to write fairly frequently for at least the next few weeks, since I'm in training in California. And don't you worry about me being hurt. The only thing that might hurt me right now are my peers._

_The whole don't ask, don't tell policy is in full force, but that doesn't stop them from pushing me around. And now they've taken to avoiding me completely unless it is absolutely necessary. And although that is kind of nice it's not helpful for my loneliness._

_In fact, you're the only thing it seems that can help me with that. It's only been about a week and your letter has already gone soft from me rereading it so often. I sleep with it underneath my pillow. I'm afraid that the others will find it, but I can't seem to sleep in these uncomfortable beds without it there._

_You're right about the kiss. I can't stop thinking about it either. I was scared that I would start to feel for someone - for you - and then it wouldn't be reciprocated. But you're telling me that you share these feelings and it's scary but it could be worth it. And I have nothing to lose, so I am going to try my hardest to be open with you. And see if this can amount to anything. Which I realize is crazy, since we're hundreds of miles away._

_But I'm willing to try if you are._

_Kurt_

* * *

><p><em>August 15th, 1962<em>

_Kurt,_

_I'm glad to hear that you are safe, for now at least. And I'm sorry to hear that the others are treating you badly. I wish that they could see the man that I see. Brave and strong and beautiful._

_I've started up my studies again this past week. My tutor, Wes, kept asking me what had me so distracted. I nearly very told him that it's you. I hope that you'll meet him one day, I'm sure that you'd like him. He's very kind._

_I'm trying to keep my focus as best as I can on my studies and I'm spending even more time than usual at the restaurant, keeping in mind that graduation is really less than a year away. Even though I'm home-schooled, I will be receiving the diploma from your alma mater and attending their graduation ceremony._

_Do you have any idea when you'll be home? If it weren't for your replies I would have thought that I'd gone mad and that I'd made you all up in my head._

_I can't believe how easily that you waltzed into my life, only to leave again so quickly. I just hope that it isn't forever._

_Thinking of you,_

_Blaine_

* * *

><p><em>September 22nd, 1962<em>

_Blaine,_

_I hope that you're singing as much as you're focusing on your studies and working. Your voice is beautiful. Breathtaking. I don't think that I ever told you._

_It haunts me sometimes. Haunts me only because of how badly I wish that I could hear it again. After a long, exhausting day I collapse onto my cot and close my eyes as tightly as I can and remember the beautiful words pouring from your beautiful lips. Lately it's become one of my biggest desires to see you sing for real, with proper accompaniment and on a real stage. I hope with all of my heart that I can see that one day. Hopefully one day soon._

_I'm not sure when I'll be home. Probably for the holidays, but not until next year. Can you last that long? I'm scared that you'll forget about me._

_I've been thinking that maybe once I get out of here, I'll move to New York as well. It's not like I have anything waiting for me back in Ohio. I don't mean to sound like I'm interrupting or interjecting myself into your plans, so if you're not comfortable with it, just let me know. I would understand one hundred percent. But I can't help hoping that you would want me there as well._

_I curse myself for signing up to do this. But how could I have known that two weeks after signing the contract I would meet someone like you who would completely flip my world upside down. A few months ago I honestly would have thought that I would be alone until my dying day. It seems that everyone I care about either dies or runs away from me. I'm hoping that you're the exception._

_Kurt_

* * *

><p><em>October 3rd, 1962<em>

_Kurt,_

_You're crazy if you thought that I wouldn't want you to come along with me to New York. That's all that I've been thinking about. Who cares if I have to go ahead and get started without you while you finish up your contract. I'll working on my singing and you just work on getting to me safely._

_I have enough money to support us both for at least a year, but I'll get a job as soon as I get there and start looking for singing opportunities. I've never seen you dance, but maybe there would be an opportunity for you to do that. I know that it makes you happy. And doing what makes you happy is far more important than you seem to think._

_I've finally told Wes all about you. He only disapproves because you are somewhat distracting me from my studies, even though I know that you don't mean to. Otherwise, he seems fairly happy. He worries that you'll be injured and that my heart will be crushed, but I have such a good feeling about us that I've asked him not to say anything like that anymore._

_He is grateful, though, that I have someone to write back and forth to. Things here with my parents are becoming more and more difficult, and besides Wes and occasionally my Uncle, you are the only one who I actually want to talk to._

_Since I told Wes about you, I've decided to go ahead and tell him about my plans for after I graduate as well. Since he knows that I have no interest in following after my father, he seems relieved that at least I have a plan, and have enough funding to have it followed through. I've asked him not to tell anyone else, and he's promised to keep quiet, and I trust him. But it does feel good to have someone close who I can run ideas by. He's even started letting me listen to the radio while we work, since he says that I focus better when it's on._

_The holidays next year seem like a very long time to wait, but as long as we are able to keep contact with one another and exchange multiple letters, I see no reason why we cannot hold out for each other. I have a very strong feeling that I wouldn't find someone like you even if I searched for a hundred years._

_You're my one and only. And I'm not willing to risk that for anything._

_Blaine_

* * *

><p><em>December 24th, 1962<em>

_Blaine,_

_Things are getting crazier and crazier over here. When things are especially bad I can't stop myself from closing my eyes and picturing that day down on the pier - focusing on your pretty face. I don't believe in God, but I've been praying every night that I get to see it again._

_I'm glad to hear that you talked things over with Wes. I wish that I had someone here who I could share things with. I often times find myself missing my father. I've gone over ten years without a mother, so I'm fairly well adjusted to that, but my father was always the person in my life who would be there and stand up for me no matter what. He was so solid, and thinking about not ever seeing him again makes my heart hurt. But thinking of you sometimes helps._

_After this letter I'm not sure when I'll be able to write again, so don't worry if it takes me a while. If you don't receive anything from me, it's certainly not because I didn't want to converse with you. Remember that even if I can't physically write to you or see you, you're constantly running through my thoughts._

_I'm trying my hardest to have courage - to be brave - for you - even when it's really difficult. This thing between us - it might be too early to tell - but it might be love._

_You have to promise me that if for some reason I don't make it home - you must still follow your dreams. I know that if anyone can escape that town and become something, it's you._

_Follow your heart, Blaine. Sing loudly. If anyone in this world deserves happiness, it's you._

_Happy holidays._

_Yours truly,_

_Kurt_

* * *

><p><em>February 7th, 1963<em>

_Kurt,_

_Your last letter both excites me and scares me in equal measure. I didn't receive until several weeks after it was dated, so I was already a little nervous. I know you said not to worry about your lack of letters for a while, because it would be difficult for you to write, but telling me not to worry about you is like asking the sun to stop shining or the breeze to stop blowing._

_It might be love. Those four words I think are the most beautiful thing you've written me so far. I wish I could hear you speak them to me. I wish I could speak them back to you._

_I know that you said that I must follow my plans and move to New York and sing, with or without you, but I have to tell you, Kurt, my plans might have changed. I've spent the last months dreaming of moving with you, escaping with you, singing to you. I'm not sure that I could do it without you._

_Please write soon._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Blaine_

* * *

><p><em>April 1st, 1963<em>

_Kurt,_

_It's been a few months since I've heard from you, and although I'm trying to stay positive, it's proving to be rather difficult._

_I've taken to spending a lot of my free time down at our pier, daydreaming about you. I wish you could come home._

_I graduate soon, and although I should be excited, because my original plan was to leave the day after, I can't stand thinking about doing it without you._

_Wes says that I shouldn't worry - that we would have heard if something had happened to you and that you must just not be able to write still. I'm praying that he's right._

_You've been in my thoughts for months, but now you've infected my dreams. I can't wait for you to actually stand in front of me once more._

_With love,_

_Blaine_

_May 10th, 1963_

* * *

><p><em>My Kurt,<em>

_My desperation is mounting. I can't stand the lack of communication between us._

_Graduation is two short weeks away and I've decided that I cannot go on without you. I know they started out as my dreams, but they've grown into our dreams for us and I cannot stand the thought of attempting to achieve them without you._

_Because I'm in love with you._

_There's no use trying to deny it. I've tried._

_Please come home to me, my darling._

_Yours eternally,_

_Blaine_

* * *

><p><em>AN: Here's chapter three. The title of this chapter comes from the title of the song Dream, Baby by Roy Orbison.  
><em>


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